


Only Blood

by princedeadend



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Torture, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Keith is struggling with this whole Galra thing, M/M, it's fairly minor though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princedeadend/pseuds/princedeadend
Summary: “What if I hurt you?”“You won’t.”“You don’t know that.”“I know you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> After binging season 2 in a matter of hours, I feel like the show kinda glossed over or didn't delve into any of Keith's possible inner turmoil. Any maybe there wasn't any but because I live for angst and sweet things, I wanted to write a little of that.

“Keith. Keith, please,” Shiro begs. His voice is little more than a gravelly mutter, hoarse from yelling under Haggar’s previous...tests. He’d resisted in giving her the satisfaction of his screams for as long as he could, jaw clenched tight and eyes watering but glaring defiantly. He hadn’t been able to hold out long. The druid had made certain of that. One eye is clenched tight against a slowly drying river of blood that runs down the side of his neck and beneath the black under armor. The other eye calls for him, pleads with him for help, for some kind of understanding. Exhaustion is evident by dark circles and the sickly pallor of Shiro’s skin. His lips are chapped, split in one corner. The rest of his body doesn’t seem to be fairing much better. His torso and legs are littered with cuts of various lengths and depths that bleed freely, darkening the suit around them. Breaths are coming in uneven pants.  _ He’s not going to make it _ . “Keith. This isn’t you!”

 

“Shiro!” Keith darts forward, reaching for his knife to cut the binds that secure the black paladin to the chair in the center of the dim room but he doesn’t move; he doesn’t make a sound. Instead, he feels his lips curl in a sneer. His legs close the distance between them and the metallic tang of blood in the air grows stronger. Keith’s stomach rolls.  _ There’s too much blood _ . A lavender hand he doesn’t recognize as his own reaches out, knife in his grip dripping crimson, and runs the blade lightly along Shiro’s jaw. The tip of the blade halts at his square chin and presses in forcing Shiro to tilt his head up.

 

His mouth opens and Keith screams, thrashes against the alien body. He’s going to save Shiro. He  _ has _ to. He doesn’t recognize the voice that comes out. The tone is all wrong; cold and mocking. “Keith is gone,” he spits. “Vrepit sa.” Anger and betrayal flash across Shiro’s eyes before panic sets in. Keith continues to cry out, continues to struggle but the body doesn’t respond. His eyes are burning and his pulse is pounding in his ears.  _ Don’t look at me like that. Please, please. It isn’t me. Shiro, it isn’t me. _

 

The knife in his hand leaves Shiro’s throat and for a moment Keith thinks it might be over, that they’ve done enough to him. He’s wrong. Without warning, the blade is plunged into Shiro’s gut and Keith is overwhelmed by the immediate cacophony of his anguished wails as he feels warm wetness drenching his hand. The body he can’t control, that he refuses to believe belongs to him is laughing cruelly and Shiro is screaming again, blood and sweat dripping down his temples, eyes screwed shut as the knife is twisted harshly.  _ This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. _

 

Shiro’s cries of pain shake him to his core. They’re too real. He’s heard them too often. Shiro. Shiro.  _ Shiro _ . 

 

He jolts upright in the pitch black with a gasp, breaths coming in ragged. His heart is hammering against his ribcage and he dry heaves once, twice.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s me. I’m here. I have you.” 

 

Familiar hands reach for him in the dark winding warm around his waist and running along his arms anchoring him to the present. The bed dips as Shiro leans away for a moment and a dim light illuminates the tangled mess of sheets around Keith’s legs. Shiro watches him cautiously as he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. He’s not ready to look the black paladin in the eye just yet but he can’t help letting his eyes roam across Shiro’s body as they search for fresh wounds.  _ Wounds I inflicted _ . Finding nothing outside of his horrific nightmare, he finally meet Shiro’s gaze. His bright, steely eyes hold none of the fear Keith had seen and only gentle concern now that he seems to be calming down. Keith swallows thickly as his pulse continues to slow. Shiro reaches out to brush sweat dampened hair from Keith’s forehead, hand lingering to thumb across his cheek.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro asks softly as he drops his hand. Keith catches it on the way down and laces their fingers together. He’s not sure if he wants to talk about it or not. Would it confirm some underlying fear of Shiro’s if he knew Keith had dreamt of torturing him? He brings Shiro’s hand to his mouth as he considers. His lips run along the knuckles before he turns Shiro’s hand over and kisses the heavily lined palm. Each fingertip receives the same treatment. He can feel Shiro watching him, can feel the same love radiating off of him that he’s always felt. Shiro is too good. He’s always been too good.  

 

“Sorry I woke you up.” Keith’s voice comes out rough and he clears his throat.

 

“You kept saying my name,” is Shiro’s quiet reply after a moment. His thumb swipes along Keith’s bottom lip before he takes his hand back. Keith resists the urge to chase after it.

 

Keith’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes dart back to meet Shiro’s before dropping to drink in the marred skin of his bare shoulders and chest.

 

He’s always wondered, never asked, about everything that happened to Shiro while he was imprisoned by the Galra but he really doesn’t have to; not with the way thick scars stripe his body from his broad shoulders and crisscross down to wrap around the lean muscle of his calves. He can’t help but wince slightly after dreaming that he was the one who put them there. 

 

Keith’s first look at the extensive damage came when Shiro woke him up yelling from across the hall their first night on the ship. He’d climbed into bed behind him once the other man had calmed down and pressed his forehead into the space between Shiro’s shoulderblades. He reached out tentatively to settle his arm on Shiro’s side where his fingers felt along thick raised lines of scar tissue. Keith had cried.

 

Keith chews the inside of his cheek before he shifts to lay on his side. Shiro follows him down and eyes the angry wound across his shoulder that’s sure to leave a scar.

 

“I guess it’s time I started my own collection.” It’s a bad joke but Shiro snorts anyway before leaning forward to kiss the mark. 

 

“Just don’t make it a habit, will ya?”

 

Keith’s lips twitch upwards and his arms wrap around Shiro’s back and neck to hold him in place. He’s not sure he’d be able to speak much with warm stormy eyes on him. A thick arm wraps tightly around his side and pulls him closer so their bodies touch and their legs tangle. Shiro’s tuft of white hair flutters against Keith’s cheek with every exhale.

 

“Talk to me, baby.” Shiro’s voice is muffled and his breath tickles his neck. Keith shivers. 

 

He’s not sure how to start. How do you tell your hero, your best friend, the person you love more than anyone else in this vast universe that you’re afraid you might betray them one day? The realization that Keith had Galra blood in his veins was fresh and they were all still coming to terms with it. Shiro had been there. Had known first out of the Voltron team. Was a man that had been captured and tortured and broken down by the very beings that Keith was related to in some way. And yet here he was, cradled and trusted more than anyone by that same man. 

 

He didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want Shiro to pull away, to doubt him. But he also knew that Shiro carried everything, every mistake, every concern, on his shoulders and Keith’s nightmares would only be one more thing he would add to the ever growing load. So he took a deep breath and let it shudder out of him.

 

“I dreamt that it was me. I dreamt that I did this to you.” Keith pauses as he runs the hand not around Shiro’s neck across Shiro’s prosthetic, along the scars that blight his back. “I dreamt that I was there and you were calling for me, begging me to stop and I wanted to. I wanted to so badly but I couldn’t. I didn’t have any control.” His voice is hardly a whisper. “Aren’t you afraid of me? What if it doesn’t matter what I do or who I want to be?”

 

Shiro pulls back, shifting until their foreheads are pressed together and the tenderness of the moment makes Keith want to cry. He feels guilty. Undeserving. His eyelids close against the sting.

 

“It’s only blood. It doesn’t make you anything you’re not. You decide who you are, Keith. You’re in control.” He opens his eyes to find Shiro’s searching his, soft and earnest.

 

“What if I hurt you?”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I know you.”

 

Shiro’s voice is all unwavering sincerity and absolute trust. Keith swallows around the knot in his throat. He leans in, face buried in Shiro’s neck and he breathes deep. He smells just like he did before Kerberos. Before he left. Shiro’s drawing lazy circles along his back to quell the anxiety circulating in his veins.  

 

“Just...please don’t leave me, Takashi,” Keith murmurs into the hollow of Shiro’s collarbone.

 

The large hands still in their repetitive movements to wrap tightly around Keith’s waist. Fingertips dig into the soft skin of his sides, pressing deep like Shiro’s afraid to let go.

  
He feels Shiro nose into his hair, lips brushing his ear as he speaks. “I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a bit of an accompaniment piece to this that is set pre-Kerberos so keep an eye out for that if you're interested! I'm always open for comments and critiques and feel free to come holler with me about anything on tumblr at [@princedeadend](http://princedeadend.tumblr.com/)


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